A Moment of Clarity
by Lady Sam Mallory
Summary: Epilogue for TSbyBS as told from Blair's POV as he must make a decision that will alter the course of his life forever. Original Publish Date: 12/07/02


As usual none of the usual characters belong to me, but to Pet Fly and others. I'm not getting any money, only a bit of sanity and satisfaction.

A warm thanks to my kick ass beta, Zoe, who has been a fantastic friend for nearly 20 years. Thank you, Zoe, for giving me this part of my life back. God Bless.

Thanks to Wolfpup's Den for giving my imagination a place to call home. Ah, Home Sweet Home.

 **Warnings:** Spoilers for Sentinel Too and TsbyBS and a tiny one for Switchman. Angst.

* * *

A MOMENT OF CLARITY

Lady Sam Mallory

* * *

 _OhMyGod!OhMyGod!OhMyGod!_ Blair thought for the thousandth time. _How in the hell could this have happened? What was she thinking? Damnit!_

He slammed through the door of the loft, barely able to catch his breath. _Jim's gonna kill me. Okay, I can handle this. I've been dead before. This should be a walk in the park compared to that._ He shuddered involuntarily as he remembered drowning in the fountain at Rainier at the hands of Alex Barnes.

"I just need to think. Jim's not going to be home from the station for a few more hours. I'll meditate and see if I can fix this incredible mess. If only Naomi hadn't sent that damn email to that opportunistic jackass Sid Graham." Blair had hoped that he was having one of his famous nightmares and that any minute he would awaken sweating and out of breath.

 _Any minute now,_ he thought again with a grimace.

He carefully placed his candles and incense on the coffee table. He knew that the incense would make Jim crazy, which is why he tried never to use it, but he knew this was an emergency. He had to find a way for this to work out. For Jim to get his life back.

He lit the candles, one by one, increasing the depth of his breathing with the flaring ignition of each candle. This continued until all six candles were lit, and the incense burned relaxation into his brain. Then he assumed the lotus position on the floor in front of the coffee table and began the breathing exercise that would allow him to ascend to a new level of awareness. _Maybe that level will have an answer for this mess. No, stop that. Positive thoughts only, Blair,_ he admonished himself sternly.

He tried to reach a calmer level of consciousness from which to think, but it was no use. He was too distracted to think clearly; and while the breathing exercises had helped him to feel a bit calmer, there was no calming his racing mind. After 30 minutes of waging war with his mind, he decided it was time to give in, not up, just in.

Defeated, he dragged himself wearily to his knees and blew out the candles and incense then crossed to the balcony doors and opened them wide to circulate the air and, hopefully, remove the incense from the air before Jim came home.

"What am I going to do?" he asked, looking down at the typewritten page: _The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg._ God, he was so proud of this body of work. Not just the paper, but the progress they had both made over the past three and a half years. Jim was so much more in control of his senses than when they met.

Blair shivered as he thought of the garbage truck that almost robbed him of the best friend he'd ever had.

"I just wish I knew what to do," Blair sighed as he felt the heavy sadness pull at his bones.

Jim had pushed him away. _He doesn't trust me anymore. I've been to hell and back, more than once, and that selfish bastard still can't admit that he needs me. That we fit together, that destiny has played this hand and we are living with the consequences._

He paused in his thinking as the teapot whistled, and he poured hot water into his cup. Dunking his tea bag, he chuckled at his choice of tea. "Oh yeah, Blair, a cup of chamomile is gonna fix this mess!" he chided.

Throwing the tea bag in the trash, he added a slice of lemon and a spoonful of honey and sighed deeply. Then he and his tea went out to the balcony to sit awhile.

"Okay, I need options. Option one: I could do nothing and see how this thing plays out. Oh yeah, that's a good plan, Blair. It's already spiraling out of control, and Jim thinks you made this huge mess. Do nothing." He laughed, "Okay, that option totally sucks."

He sipped at his tea thoughtfully drumming his fingers on his knee as he looked out over the city. "Shaman of Cascade, ha. I can't even straighten out this mess, and my Sentinel is closed off to me," he sneered. "Shit," he whispered as he set his cup on the ground and got up to pace.

"That's why I'm so screwed. I usually have Jim to use as a sounding board for this crap. We talk and figure it out together. Damnit, I wish he would talk to me... hell, yell at me. I don't care. I just need something other than this damn coldness."

Grabbing his cup, he took it to the sink, washed it and put it away.

"Yeah, Sandburg, now you know you're losing your mind. You did the dishes," he spat, laughing bitterly.

"Okay, option two. I could deny that the work is mine. Claim that somebody else wrote it." He smiled. "Whatever, Sandburg. It's called _The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg_ , moron. Your own mother sent it to the publisher. That's why you're hip deep in shit right now, remember? So option two is obviously not viable. Okay, calm down. Time for a short break," Blair said, walking to the bathroom.

 _A nice hot shower ought to make things a little clearer,_ he thought warmly. Not to mention he was feeling a bit chilled from sitting on the balcony without his jacket.

He stalked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Disrobing, he climbed in and let the hot, steaming water wash away his cares... for about 30 seconds. Then his brain kicked back in trying to solve the problem.

"Okay, option three: Oh I really don't like option three, but when you're inspired, what can you do?"

He rinsed off as the water began to turn cold and climbed out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he bounded down the hall toward his room freezing his ass off. _Oh yeah, cold and wet is my world,_ he thought grimly.

He quickly dressed and grabbed his keys. He needed to get back to his office and finish a little grading. Getting into the Volvo, he put it into gear and headed toward the university.

"Okay, coward. Option three." He sighed and took a deep breath, then released it slowly. "I denounce my thesis, declaring it fraudulent and piss away a promising career in anthropology," he finished, biting his lower lip. _There I said it, but can I do it?_ he thought, shaking his head sadly.

He pulled into the lot at the university and found a spot fairly close to the door. Grabbing his backpack, he trekked up the steps and made his way to his office. He flung open the door and sat down heavily at his desk.

Looking around his office at all the treasures he had collected through the years, he said, "Can I do it? You bet your ass I can if it's the only way to save Jim."

He sat behind his desk and hurriedly graded his last few papers. _It's the only way,_ he thought sadly and laid his head on his desk and cried.

He picked up the phone and dialed the Chancellor's office. "Good afternoon, Chancellor, this is Blair Sandburg. I'm sorry to bother you, but if you could call a press conference for later this afternoon, I would really appreciate it," he said stoically.

 _"No problem, Mr. Sandburg. I'll have my office call yours with the time,"_ she replied, basking in the glory that would reign down on the university.

"Thank you," Blair acknowledged as he hung up the phone. He opened a new document on his computer, not trusting himself to write legibly as his hands were shaking mercilessly.

* * *

That evening, Blair smiled as he saw his mother standing near the front of the hall where he would be giving his speech. He approached the podium slowly and took his position behind it. Looking up with red rimmed eyes, he began:

 _"Hi. Thank you all for coming."_ His voice shook with the effort. _"I just have a short speech prepared here. Um... In our media informed culture, a scientist receives validation by having his or her work published, and after years of research, there is great personal satisfaction when that goal is reached. However, my desire to impress both my peers and the world at large drove me to an immoral and unethical act. My thesis,_ _ **The Sentinel**_ _, is a... is a fraud. While my paper does quote ancient source material, the documentation proving that J-James Ellison..."_ his voice caught as he looked away _"...actually possesses hyper senses is fraudulent."_ Taking a deep breath, he fought to regain control to finish his speech, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room. _"Looking back, I can't even say that it's a good piece of fiction,"_ he paused, turning toward his mother. _"I apologize for this deception. My only hope is that I can be forgiven for the pain I've caused those that are close to me. Thank you,"_ he gasped at last, fleeing from the podium as he rushed from the room, eyes downcast.

His expression tightened as the chancellor hissed behind him, _"You've embarrassed this university for the last time. I want your office cleared out by Friday!"_

Blair marshaled every ounce of strength to prevent himself from running to his car, as he choked on the tears the end of his professional life brought to bear.

He fumbled with his keys, dropping them to the ground.

"Are you okay, Mr. Sandburg?" one his students was parked next to him, of all the rotten luck.

"Yeah, thanks. I'm just late. Sorry, gotta go," he forced out, never once looking up from the ground as he escaped into his car and drove away.

The tears came as he realized that the next time he drove onto this campus, he would be cleaning out his office. "Stop it! Don't think about it right now. You still have to help Jim catch that damn assassin. Maybe you'll get lucky and he'll miss his target and put you out of your misery," he said bitterly. "Real good, Sandburg. Everything happens for a reason, so just be happy that you could give Jim his life back," he chided himself mercilessly.

He headed to the hospital to check on Simon and Megan. _Blair's pity party will have to wait,_ he thought, sighing deeply.

Blair was talking to the doctor when Jim came in.

 _"I saw your press conference," Jim began._

 _"Oh yeah, you saw it. It's just a book," he breathed._

 _"It was your life," Jim defended._

 _"Yeah it was... well you were right. I don't know what I was expecting to do with it. I mean, where do I get off following you around for three years pretending I was a cop, right?" Blair spoke quickly, not meeting Jim's gaze._

 _"This self-deprecation doesn't suit you, you know. You might have been just an observer, but you're the best damn cop I've ever met and the best partner I could have ever asked for. You've been a great friend and pulled me through some pretty weird stuff," Jim finished almost enjoying the look of shock on his partner's face._

 _"Thanks," Blair replied, unable to find any other words._

* * *

They returned to the precinct to find their charge, arrogant activist Jack Bartley, taking over Simon's office. Bartley, targeted by the assassin Iceman, was screaming into the phone as Jim went into the office.

Then all hell broke loose. The shooting started and flying glass pelted the officers as they tried to find cover.

Jim pushed his arrogant, but now frightened, charge under the desk and took off after Klaus Zeller.

Blair, seeing Jim head for the stairs, followed him at the all clear and burst out onto the rooftop as Jim took a round in the knee.

Klaus Zeller, international terrorist and all around menace, fell to his death from the roof of the Cascade Police Department, putting an end to his lengthy and most deadly career.

* * *

 ** _Friday_**

Blair put the last of his books into the box and closed the lid. Looking around the office, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed that he would never again teach anthropology, that the wealth of knowledge available to him would be forever out of his reach. He sighed deeply as he heard a knock at the door.

"Come in," he answered softly for the last time.

"Mr. Sandburg?" a young man asked awkwardly.

"Yes, Jeff, what can I do for you?" Blair asked, a teacher to the end.

"Well, sir, I just wanted you to know. I... I don't... You were the best teacher I ever had, sir. I couldn't let you leave without telling you that. I'm sorry that, well, you know." Blair nodded. "Well, Mr. Sandburg, you'll be totally missed," the boy croaked out as he turned to leave the office with tears in his eyes.

"Jeff," Blair called out to him, "thanks."

Blair took one last look around his office to make sure he had everything, then locked the door. The clunk of the deadbolt sounded as hollow as he felt. He turned and made his way to the Anthropology office to turn in his keys.

* * *

Later that evening, he sat on the balcony, staring out over the lighted city. He smiled sadly as he heard his Sentinel enter the loft.

Jim extended his hearing and made his way to the balcony to meet his friend.

"Hey, Chief. It's kinda cold out here, don't you think?"

Blair looked up at his friend. "Sit down, Jim. We need to talk," he began slowly, waiting for Jim to take his seat.

"Jim, I want you to hear me out first without any interruptions," he paused as Jim nodded his acceptance of the terms. "Jim, I... I can't be a cop, man." He held up his hand to stave off Jim's reaction. "Come on, please, just listen."

Jim settled back into the chair, not realizing that he had started to stand up.

"Listen, Jim. I can't be something that I'm not. I won't live that lie."

Jim growled, "You're living a lie as a fraud."

"Jim, I said no interruptions and I meant it. Just let me get through this... please," Blair begged. "I love working with you at the department. I wouldn't ever want to change that, but I couldn't carry a gun and go to the academy. That would be denying my true self. I've thought a lot about this. I'm going away..."

 **"NO!"** Jim cried out, unintentionally.

Blair continued, "I'm going away for a little while. I will come back. I just have to figure some things out first. I swear to you, man, **I will be back**." He paused, looking Jim in the eyes for the first time since this mess began. "Look, I need to do this. I'm so far out of balance I can't take it. I'm going to go to a mountain retreat in Colorado and regroup. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but I promise you that you haven't lost your Guide. You are the most important thing in my life and I will not lose you too," Blair finished sternly.

"I understand, Chief, and I'm sorry that I acted so poorly when this whole mess started. I wish I could do something to make it better for you. I wish you didn't feel you had to leave. You are the most important thing in my life too, and I know that I freaked out. I wish I could have handled it better, but everything was spinning totally out of control. Please, don't go, Blair. I can't do this alone," Jim pleaded.

"I have to go, Jim. I'm no good to you right now. I can't stop thinking, and I'm afraid I'm gonna get you killed. I left the notebooks on my bed. Give them to Megan so that she can help you while I'm gone. I asked Simon to partner you two up until I got things figured out. Simon seems to think he can get me on at the department as a full time consultant. He's working it out with the brass while I'm gone. Please, Jim, take care of yourself and don't do anything stupid," Blair finished, his voice catching on the words.

"Okay, Chief, but I'm going to miss you. When do you have to leave?" Jim asked quietly.

"No time like the present. I'm leaving now. I just wanted to talk to you in person before I went," Blair replied, standing and heading toward the door. "Car's already loaded. I'll see ya," he finished slinging his backpack onto his shoulder and giving his Sentinel a farewell hug.

Jim clutched his Guide close to him, not wanting to let go but knowing that he must. He listened to Blair's heartbeat as he walked out the door and down the stairs until it became so faint, he was afraid he'd zone if he extended himself that far.

"Goodbye, Chief," Jim said, as the tears streamed from his eyes.

 ** _The End_**


End file.
